


Mosh Pits and Drumsticks

by ObsessedtwibrarianOTB



Category: BLURRYFACE - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst and Humor, Band Fic, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB/pseuds/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a few days before the wedding and Josh is determined to find out why Tyler is suddenly quiet and withdrawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mosh Pits and Drumsticks

(Story banner was created by me using Photoshop CC 2015. Please do not alter my artwork in any way, or post it on other sites without my permission.) 

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Despite the fact Tyler was getting married in just a few days, he was keeping a suspiciously low profile— _too_ low, in my opinion. He’d suddenly gone quiet and, unfortunately, Jenna was slammed all day with wedding appointments, so that left me with the job of finding out what was bothering him. I had a few ideas on that front, but to fix it, I first had to _find_ him. 

I knew there were only so many places where he could hide without interruptions; I was right on the first try. I found him at his parents’ house, stretched out on his childhood bed with his ukulele on his chest, plucking random, discordant notes on it while staring at the ceiling. 

Unnoticed, I hovered quietly outside the doorway and reviewed my game plan. It had taken years of practice, but I now considered myself an expert at getting Tyler to share his deepest thoughts. The secret was to divert his attention, and the best way to do _that_ was to share something _I_ was personally struggling with. Tyler was a born problem solver with a deep desire to help others, so laying someone else’s troubles in his lap to fix was the first step in getting him to open up about his _own_ issues. It worked every time. 

I silently thanked God for guiding me into Tyler’s path. We’d bonded over our mutual love of music and our faith, but it was this sharing of our deepest fears and insecurities that had truly solidified our friendship. I took a small breath for courage and stepped into the bedroom wearing a grin. 

“Catchy tune.” 

Tyler stopped plucking and looked up. “Billboard, here we come,” he deadpanned. 

I chuckled at his joke—his dry sense of humor was one of the things I loved most about him—and sat down at the foot of the bed. Tyler brought his legs up to give me room, and scooted up until his back was resting against the headboard.

“If you’re writing, I’ll come back later.” 

Tyler rolled his eyes. “I’m doing a little therapeutic wallowing, but that can wait. What’s up?” 

 _Step One: the diversion._ I nervously fiddled with my hair. “Well, I have this little problem, but I’m not sure I should tell you because you’re going to laugh, and I really need you _not_ to laugh, because this is keeping me up at night.” 

Tyler laid his ukulele down on the bed and sat up, his gaze focused and intent. “I won’t laugh.” He looked away for a moment and then back. “Maybe,” he added with an almost-grin. “Is this serious?” 

I nodded solemnly. 

“Then I won’t laugh,” Tyler promised. “What is it?” 

“The truth is I’m a little nervous about the wedding, about standing up in front of all those people, and all of them staring at me.”  I watched Tyler’s face after my revelation. True to his promise he didn’t laugh, but he _did_ furrow his brow a little. 

“You perform in front of thousands of people and you never get nervous. Why would you be nervous about _this?_ You’re just walking a bridesmaid up the aisle, then standing there while we say our vows.” 

“Performing is different,” I said. “Me, you, the fans, we’re all in that zone together. But this groomsman thing—I’ll be standing up there in front of everybody with nothing to do. What am I going to do with my hands? I just know I’m going start drumming out a beat on my pants leg right in the middle of the ceremony and embarrass myself.” 

Since Tyler fooled around on the drums a little himself, he understood. Drummers were just hard-wired to beat out rhythms on whatever surface they could find. He nodded thoughtfully. “That actually makes sense—you’re always banging on something—but I don’t know what we can do about it.” 

I bit my lip. “Well, I have an idea, but I’m kind of afraid to ask Jenna. She’s a little stressed right now. And…uh…by the way, this is the part where you’re going to laugh.” 

Tyler gave me a stern look. “I promised I wouldn’t.” 

I nodded. “Okay, so I thought maybe if Jenna would let me carry my drumsticks, then I’d be fine. You know, it’d be like a security blanket thing. I’d have something in my hands. I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious.” 

Tyler’s lips twitched, but he kept his promise and didn’t laugh. “You have bright red hair. And gauges.” 

I frowned. “Yeah. So?” 

Tyler scratched his head. “I guess I shouldn’t point out that a guy with bright red hair and gauges holding two drumsticks during a wedding might make people stare at him even more?” 

“No, you shouldn’t.” 

“Okaaay.” He shifted his gaze to his ukulele lying by his side. A comfortable silence descended, as often happened during conversations with Tyler. He was analyzing the problem, searching for a solution, and I was content to patiently watch and wait. Finally he steered his gaze back in my direction. “This is really keeping you up at night??” 

I nodded, solemn and serious. “Yeah. I’m a nervous wreck about it.” 

Tyler smiled. “Okay. You got it, bro. I’ll talk to Jenna and we’ll figure this out. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

I returned his smile. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” 

“No problem.” Tyler grabbed his ukulele and settled back against the headboard, diving right back into therapeutic wallowing mode except, this time, he closed his eyes, plucking random notes in a decidedly minor key. Conversation over. I was being politely dismissed. 

 _Not so fast, buddy. Step Two: open up._ “That song sounds a little down.” 

Tyler’s eyes flipped open. He stopped plucking. Not even the hint of a smile. “That’s kind of the point of wallowing.” 

I sighed. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d thought. “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet for a couple of days now. Talk to me, man.” 

Tyler averted his eyes. “My head’s in a really weird place right now. Trust me, you don’t want to know.” 

“Actually, I’d love to get inside that head of yours just once. I think it’d be a really interesting experience.” Four years into this gig and I was still in awe of the lyrics and melodies that came out of my best friend’s mind. 

Tyler snorted and tapped his temple. “It’s a mosh pit in there. You wouldn’t make it out alive.” 

I grinned crookedly. “Hey, I can take a punch.” 

Tyler returned my smile, then it quickly faded. “We’re talking Wall of Death,” he murmured, looking away again. A gloomy silence descended over the room.   

I had no choice but to float out one of my theories to try and get this conversation moving in the right direction. “Is it Jenna?” I asked hesitantly. “Are you having second thoughts?” 

Tyler’s eyes darted sharply in my direction, a deep frown creasing his brow. “What?? No. I’m not having _any_ second thoughts. I am going to marry her  _so hard_.” 

He sounded earnest; I had no choice but to believe him. That left only one other possibility. “Then maybe you’re worried your marriage is going to change things between _us_?” 

He looked shocked. “I never even thought of that,” he said, raking a hand through his short crop of hair. He fell silent for a few moments. “Are _you_ worried about that?” 

I shook my head with a silent, but emphatic, no. “Jenna’s good for you, and what’s good for _you_ is good for _us._ Joshler is going to be fine.” 

Tyler shot me an amused look. “You mean Tysh.” 

“I mean _Joshler._ You gotta accept it eventually, Tyler.” 

“Well, _I’m_ the lead singer and I like Tysh better.” 

I always lost the Joshler/Tysh argument and this time wasn’t any different. We locked eyes, laughed, arriving at a silent understanding at the same time: nothing or no _one_ would ever come between us. I considered Tyler my “brother from another mother”, and he felt the same way about me.  
  
Tyler cast his gaze downward, his smile fading again. “It’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” I asked gently. 

His sigh was heartbreakingly deep. “It’s almost too absurd to even say out loud. I am so lucky. I’m alive—and that was iffy there for awhile—I’m living my dream of playing music and it’s actually working out. I’m financially secure now, and I’m going to marry the most amazing woman in a few days. I have _you—_ one of the greatest guys I’ve ever known—as my best friend. I have a supportive family. Friends. My faith.“ He sighed again. “I have all of that, then I have this mosh pit inside my head with that voice that just won’t shut up.” 

I had my own version of a mosh pit in my head so I knew exactly what Tyler was talking about. I’d experienced first-hand the confusion of knowing I was extremely blessed in my life, but still feeling like something wasn’t quite right. Instead of pushing him to elaborate, I simply sat silent, patiently waiting for him to arrive at a place where he felt safe enough to share. 

Finally Tyler raised his head, his eyes full of uncertainty. I felt a glimmer of uneasiness. “Happiness scares the shit out of me, Josh,” he said softly. 

That was the last thing I’d expected to hear. My poker face must have momentarily slipped, because he snorted bitterly and nodded. “I told you it was absurd. Who else but Tyler Joseph could spend hours analyzing the downside of happiness?” 

“What is it that scares you?” 

The silence stretched on, growing longer as Tyler avoided my eyes and plucked random notes out on his ukulele. He stopped playing, but didn’t look up. “I create in darkness,” he said. “And Jenna is the purest light.” 

 _Aaah._ “So, you’re afraid your writing will suffer if you’re happy?” 

He nodded. 

“That’s Blurry talking, and you’ve got to shut him down right now. You deserve to be happy just like anyone else. You can’t let these doubts get in the way of that.” 

He stubbornly shook his head. “This isn’t just about me anymore. You’ve heard the fans. Some of them are only here because of our music. We’ve literally saved lives with these lyrics. I’m afraid that if I finally get my head in a good place, I’m going to hit a creative wall. I can’t let our fans down, Josh. I _won’t.”_  

I wracked my brain, searching for an argument that would erase all of his doubts. Blurry was insecure and difficult to reason with. Whenever he showed his face, Tyler temporarily lost the ability to see his own strengths. 

“You hit walls all the time, and it always turns out okay,” I pointed out. “Remember how long you were blocked on _Goner_? And that all worked out. And there’s a ton more examples.” 

He vehemently shook his head. “Me being happy almost feels like I’m sending out the parts, you know? Like I’m cashing in on the good life and leaving everyone else behind. Those fans, the ones who are barely hanging on, they’re going to be the ones to suffer if I can’t write.” He snorted bitterly. “As pathetic as it sounds, I’m my most creative when I’m miserable.” 

I couldn’t believe how blind he was to his own gifts. “That’s just not true. I’ve seen you write some amazing stuff when you were totally blissed out. When you first got involved with Jenna, you were writing like crazy, some really good tunes, Tyler.” 

He tapped his temple again. “Mosh pit. I may have looked happy, but that violence inside my head was still there.” 

I frowned, frustrated at the circularity of this conversation. “Okay, correct if I’m wrong, but didn’t you just contradict yourself?? First you said if you’re happy you might not be able to write. Then you just now said it doesn’t matter whether you’re happy or not, that the darkness is _always_ there.” 

Tyler stared off into the distance for the longest time. Finally he snorted softly. “I’m thinking too much _.”_

“Yeah, I think you are. You know I love Jenna. She’s amazing and I think she’s perfect for you, but you and I both know she doesn’t have the power to clean out that mosh pit of yours. Nobody on this earth can do that, and I’m not trying to be funny. We’re broken, Tyler, _both_ of us. Remember? There’s only one person who can fix us.” 

He sighed. “Damn. You’re right. I’m just obsessing a little, I guess.” 

“No, you’re not obsessing, you’re scared, and that’s okay. I’d say it’s pretty normal, actually.” 

“Yeah, I am. But normal??” He smiled sadly. “This is not normal. From what people tell me, the first year is the most important one in a marriage, and what am I doing?? I’m going to be dragging her from city to city, sleeping on a bus, eating on the go, no privacy, fighting exhaustion—not that I don’t love touring, because you know I thrive on it—but I’m just afraid the stress of this is going to be too much, for me _and_ for her. You gotta admit being on the road is not a normal way to start a marriage.” 

I had to laugh. Tyler’s brow wrinkled; he thought I wasn’t taking him seriously. “Are you kidding? This is going to be the  _best_ way to start your life together. We’re talking about Jenna Black here. Remember? The girl’s a ninja, and she knows exactly what’s she’s getting into. Her eyes are wide open, Tyler. She wants to experience your successes _and_ your failures with you, not just sit back in Ohio and wait for you to come home. And she understands that sometimes you need to be in a dark place to write, and she will give you that space because she loves you.” 

Tyler eyed me suspiciously. “And you know all this how??” 

I shrugged sheepishly. “We’ve talked.” 

“About me??” 

“Yeah.” 

“What else did she say?” 

“That she’s proud to be your dime-piece, and she’ll dress like Jasmine every Halloween for the rest of her life as long as she’s with _you.”_

“You’ve been stalking my Twitter again.” 

I snickered. “Only on days that end in –y.” 

He smirked and rolled his eyes. 

“It’s going to be okay, Tyler. A day at a time and a prayer. That’s all we can do in this life.” I held out my fist, waiting for a bump. 

“You’re right. Thanks for helping me keep things in perspective,” he said. 

“That’s what broughs are for.” Our knuckles touched. “So…I’m gonna head out and get some practice in before the rehearsal dinner.  You're okay?” 

He nodded. “I'm okay. Thanks." 

As I started to get up, he stopped me. “So, I'll talk to Jenna about the drumsticks tonight.” 

I shrugged. “Naw, don't worry about it. I think a groomsman with bright red hair and gauges carrying drumsticks would look pretty stupid.” 

Tyler’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you were a nervous wreck.” 

“No, I'm fine. I’m actually looking forward to this," I said, grinning.

Tyler shook his head and sighed. “Throwing you out of the band is not working." 

I laughed and headed for the door. 

 

 


End file.
